The Madness of King George

What is necessary, is to write
I fear I am drifting into the unnecessary realm of doughey contentment.

It should be taught
That the gaps in productivity are not
Highly organised or phallic
Or in the madness of King George's Head
They can sit in your soul
Like tiny green witches
Hunted like they are.

You all laugh
And say
You know
But what do you know?
You know nothing
And nothing begets nothing
All will circulate until we are dead.
And now that I am done with you
You may go.